


through the warmth, through the cold (keep running till we're there)

by justprompts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, F/F, F/M, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts Express, M/M, Murder, Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, Prophecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justprompts/pseuds/justprompts
Summary: "Hello?"The person on the other end was breathing heavily, his voice shaken."Auror Potter?""Yes?""Its Code 311, on - on the Hogwarts Express. Your assistance is required.Now."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Scorpius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 59
Kudos: 159





	1. the cradle will fall

__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_"Hello?"_   
  
The person on the other end was breathing heavily, his voice shaken.   
  
"Auror Potter?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Its Code 311, on - on the Hogwarts Express. Your assistance is required.  _Now_ ."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry had never felt so revolted. And ashamed, for feeling so, but the body was in a disgusting state.   
  
An eleven year old girl, just a small eleven year old girl, as fresh to the real wizarding world as Albus - with a new magic wand and desire to make friends and dreams to see dragons -   
  
  
_Dead_ .    
  
  
Brutally murdered on the Hogwarts Express.   
  
  
It was so cruel, Harry couldn't even think for a moment. His brain was a constant stream of what - how - why?   
  
  
_Why?_ Why would anybody -   
  
  
And  _who_ ?   
  
  
The stench overwhelmed him before he even entered the compartment.   
  
Compartment 4, the one he had always sat in, the place where he met Remus Lupin for the first time, another cruel joke by the fates dedicated to one Harry Potter,   
_should-be_ -junior-but- _is_ -senior Auror, Boy who lived, and Boy who stumbled like lightning out of his house because for a horrifying second there, he thought he had lost his children.   
  
  
And his children were really all he had.   
  
  
When things hadn't worked out between him and Ginny due to... several reasons, he had taken full time custody. They were of course, still friends, and Ginny visited a lot, anytime she could between her Quidditch, she had recently become Captain for England, no small feat, the first witch to do so in history, but the kids never thought of her as their mother. They called her by her name, like she was a Pseudo Godmother. And she was, Harry thought wryly. He had raised them, and ultimately, after the war, they were literally his only motivation.   
  
That made him feel guilty too, the immense  _relief_ that he felt when he confirmed that it wasn't any child that he  _knew_ .   
  
He opened the compartment door, smoothly sliding it with his wand, taking care not to touch.    
  
The girl's body was laid mangled on the ground, her dark, curly black hair spread around her, glistening with blood. Hovering her gently, he examined the marks, a quick report for his own research, because something in his gut  _told_ him that he was going to get involved in this. He had to find who did this, no matter what.   
  
Her skin was pale, her neck had handprints on it. Was the murderer that stupid? Were those actual handprints?    
  
  
But why were they so -  _Oh, no._   
  
  
A sickening feeling rose in his stomach, as he realised that the handprints were really small.  _Child-like_ . But which student could do this? A student of Hogwarts, attacking an eleven year old girl on the train.   
  
Her hands were blackened, there was something off about that, a type of dark curse he didn't know about - her clothes looked ripped off - her feet twisted and warped - and  _oh,_ god. Her neck bone was broken, almost as if it had been  _twisted_ around.   
  
He would like nothing better right now, than to clean the corpse a little, atleast a dignified position, because this girl deserved that - but  _what if he messed with any sort of evidence?_   
  
When he couldn't take it anymore, because even after seven years in the service, this was one of the most disgusting crimes he had ever come across, he levitated her back to the ground, in almost the same postion, so an actual investigation could occur, and looked around the compartment for any sort of clue -  _anything_ .   
  
The walls were blank, no sign of struggle or spell going awry like scorching, the girl's trunk, black and silver lay below one of the berths, unmarked, and there was nothing kept on the side table. The girl would obviously have things on her, possibly her wand, but he wasn't the person who should check that.   
  
  
That's when he realised something.   
  
  
The whole floor around her was covered in some golden sort of dust, shimmery but subtle, sprinkled like a jar had broken and the dust had fallen out. He scooped up a little with a quiet " _Exciperent!"_ flicking his wand, discreetly, taking care not to touch it at all - maybe, Hermione could take a look - he had a strong feeling that this case might not be offered to him ultimately, and even worse, that it might never be solved and covered up.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The squad brought her back, to St. Mungo's for Post Mortem, and further Autopsy.    
  
Harry had called Hermione and Ron, by now, who had arrived immediately, realising the hitch in his breath, even through the Floo.   
  
The train had been stopped and barred, students still inside, with an Auror on guard for every three compartments.   
  
Harry prayed his children were well, and alert, there had been a lot of panic attacks, and the two first years, who found the girl first were in the Hospital too.   
  
  
He could see the haunted look in Hermione's eyes that spoke the same, clearly, of maternal stress.   
  
  
Ron had an arm around him, supporting him, and Harry couldn't help but stare at the white door, hoping for some news, fo what had happened - how it had happened - any clue, whatsover.   
  
He was exhausted. It had been a long day, what with assigning Aurors their places, answering frantic parents on the call, holding Kingsley for the student interrogation.   
  
He could have fallen asleep, standing up, when suddenly, Ron jerked, and he heard footsteps, walking fast in their direction, and a loud, angry voice, that was really, really familiar - and sort of unwelcome at the moment.   
  
  
_" - see my son right this fucking minute or I swear to - "_   
  
  
(He had a son?)   
  
  
_" - we're doing all we can, and we would appreciate if you would just wait outside the - "_   
  
  
(Since when did he have a son, and why didn't Harry know?)   
  
  
_" - wait outside? Oh, that's rich. Just try stopping me from entering - "_   
  
  
(Why would Harry know about his son  _anyway_ ?)   
  
  
_" - you should really stop making threats, sir, what with your less than stellar past - "_   
  
  
(He sounded exactly like an angry and scared father, which made absolutely  _no_ sense to Harry.)   
  
  
_" - I don't see how my past has anything to do with seeing my eleven year old son in a goddamn hospital - "_   
  
  
( _This_ would be their cue to go see what was going on. Harry stayed still, almost frozen.)   
  
  
_" - kindly lower your voice, this is a hospital and your past, actually, has everything to do with this. Maybe you should have thought of your eleven year old son when you became a death eater - "_   
  
  
(Wait, why is his son in  _St. Mungo's_ ?)   
  
  
There was pause, the man must have realised he had crossed a line, as Hermione and Harry exchanged worried glances, wondering whether they should interrupt.   
  
  
"If you don't unhand me  _right now_ , and go your  _merry_ way down the  _fucking_ corridor, while I see my son in that ward, I swear to  _Salazar_ , I'll show you just  _what_ I learnt while I was a Death Eater."   
  
  
Ron and Harry moved automatically, Hermione in tow, turning the bend of the corridor to see Euan Abercrombie, a very new recruit for the Auror force, his eyes wide and wild as he edged slightly towards the wall, his hand still in the air, like he had just left something he was holding, and of course -   
  
  
Former death eater, and classmate, currently looking furious enough to kill, glaring with flashing grey eyes at Abercrombie, still in the same black suit, his blonde hair a little messed up, but a part of Harry had to admit he was  _quite_ fit, his fingers twitching like he was going to grab his wand any second, stood -  _Draco Malfoy._   
  
  
They both spun around, Malfoy instantly going even stiffer, and a hint of resignation and defeat coming to his face to replace the righteous anger, because if they said he couldn't go, he obviously couldn't, and Abercrombie standing up straight, and looking at Harry, about to speak, when Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.   
  
  
"Dismissed, Abercrombie," Ron said, his eyes fixed on Malfoy's, an unreadable expression on his face. "Go home, get some rest. You've been up for longer than a day."   
  
  
Abercrombie nodded swiftly, his shoulders slumping with clear relief and made his way down the corridor.   
  
  
After Malfoy's trials, where Harry had spoken for him, he had thanked him, from him and his mother, and they had come to a sort of uneasy, unspoken truce.   
  
  
Harry remembered the last time he had seen Malfoy as well. In  _Muggle_ London.   
  
  
Which had been a wierd shock.   
  
  
In a Starbucks, just near the entrance to Diagon Alley, with Zabini and Theo Nott, all dressed so inconspicuously like muggles, that Harry hadn't even realised it was them, until the guy at the counter said, " _Vanilla Mocha for the Chosen One!"_ and Harry had turned around in panic, and a mortifying flush, until he saw Zabini and Nott smirking at him from across the tables.    
  
Malfoy hadn't spared him a glance, then.   
  
Now, Malfoy cleared his throat, swallowed nervously and then, in what was an obvious effort for nonchalance, not quite as good as what he usually did - he must be really stressed about his son - said, "You heard that."   
  
  
It wasn't a question.   
  
  
Hermione nodded slowly.   
  
  
There was a pause, where Harry wondered if Malfoy would try threatening them too, or just accept defeat and go outside again.   
  
  
"It was an empty threat," he blurted out, his facade breaking, and Harry almost blanched at the blatant fear it held. "I  _need_ to see Scorpius - the other kid's parents have been allowed inside - just, please,  _please_ Potter - I have to see him, just once, I  _can't_ \- "   
  
  
Hermione, whose eyes had been widening in shock at the honest outburst, interrupted, "Come on, Malfoy."   
  
  
" _What?_ " he sounded so comically shocked for a second, Harry suppressed the urge to laugh.   
  
  
"Where's your son?"   
  
  
"Ward 44," he said, dazedly, and Harry realised that his son must have been one of the two kids who saw the girl.   
  
  
In hindsight, he should have recognized the boy, what with his blonde hair, and the same stoic expression, with which he looked disdainfully at the crying boy with him, and was far more composed than what Harry could ask a first year to be.   
  
  
_Malfoys were still Malfoys_ , it seemed.   
  
  
There could be something dubious about Malfoy's involvement in this - but this was not the time for that.   
  
Hermione nodded, and grabbed him by the wrist, which to Harry's surprise, Malfoy didn't protest against, just let himself be half dragged to the Ward.   
  
The healers who stood outside nodded at them, sparing Malfoy slightly suspicious glances - but allowed them to pass without any questions.   
  
  
Malfoy paused at the door, hand on the knob, and Harry could see him reconstructing his calm facade. He took a deep breath, and walked inside, leaving the door open, as if offering them to come in too - probably as witnesses that he wasn't doing anything mistrustful here - they followed him inside, Hermione slipping her hand back into her jacket pocket.   
  
  
The blonde boy, he was quite tall for his age, Harry noted, stood up from his bed immediately, nodding a little, his expression impassive but didn't come near Malfoy. He looked at all of them warily and then said,   
  
  
"Can you hear the  _stars_ tonight, Father?"   
  
  
Harry passed a quizzical glance to Hermione, who stared ahead at them, and Ron whose eyes were narrowing in suspicion.   
  
"I can  _see_ them too, Scorp," Malfoy replied, a small smile on his face, his voice gentle.   
  
The boy's face broke into a wide, beaming smile, changing his face completely and he rushed to Malfoy, who kneeled in front of Scorpius, ruffling his hair and hugging him, whispering reassuringly and making Harry feel like complete and utter shit for not checking on his kids even once.   
  
He looked at Hermione, who still had that disbelieving, calculating look in her eye, and Ron who was gaping, but Harry could see a smile tugging on his face.   
  
  
Well, Ron was a softie, Harry knew that.   
  
  
He looked at the other side of the room, where the other boy was lying.   
  
Brown haired, with a pale, tear stained face, with one hand clutching his sheets, and one hand being squeezed by his mother's, who looked kind of familiar, smiling softly. His father was pacing the length of his bed, his expression angry.   
  
That's understandable, Harry conceded. Anyone would be furious their child had to see that.    
  
Or was in danger like that.   
  
Harry broke out of his thoughts, as Malfoy stood up, and practically carried Scorpius back to his bed, his son grumbling with a petulant expression, and Malfoy asking him stuff - presumably about what happened on the train.   
  
"Hello, Scorpius," surprisingly, Ron said, nearing the bed.   
  
Malfoy cast him a completely bewildered expression, and Scorpius straightened up, extending his hand, his voice formal as he said, "Hello, Mr Weasley. It is a pleasure to meet you."   
  
Ron shook it, smiling at the kid and completely ignoring Malfoy who opened and closed his mouth like a fish, "Call me Ron, please."   
  
Scorpius looked a little hesitant at that, and said, as if he had learnt it by heart, "Father says calling  _anyone_ who is elder to me by more than seven years by their name, and not a salutation, is  _improper_ ."   
  
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed,  _oh_ ,  _the irony,_ as Hermione also chuckled tentatively, and Malfoy flushed and said, quickly, "That's alright, Scorpius."   
  
  
Scorpius nodded eagerly, before turning to Hermione, "You're  _Hermione Granger!_ I've read about you in the Rise and Fall of Dark Arts Edition ll, and the Modern Magical -"   
  
  
_Deja vu_ and  _karma_ , Harry thought.   
  
  
Malfoy looked like he wanted to bury himself, as Hermione gave him a bemused smile.   
  
Harry couldn't help but tune out of Scorpius's excited outburst and notice how Malfoy had grown into his pointy features, his hair looked better than before - and his eyes held a fond sort of exasperation and love, as he looked at Scorpius, and that looked quite good on his face -   
  
  
" - and everybody thinks Mr. Potter is cooler, but I think if you and him duelled, you would win, because father told me you're  _much_ smarter than Mr Potter!"   
  
  
Harry blinked once, twice, and Malfoy sank lower in his chair, his eyes shut, and his expression mortified.   
  
  
"Thats enough, Scorpius," he said, and Scorpius snapped his mouth shut instantly, looking with wide eyes and a " _oops, sorry_ " expression.   
  
And then, Hermione and Ron started laughing, loudly and openly as Ron said, "That's quite true, Scorpius. Your father," he passed Malfoy an extremely amused look, "- is right. Hermione would win against Harry, any day."   
  
  
Harry had no arguments against that, so he nodded at Scorpius and sat down on the bed, and Malfoy put his head in his hands.   
  
  
"This is either a really,  _really_ bad nightmare," he muttered, "Or just about the  _most_ embarrassing moment of my life."   
  
Scorpius passed him a sheepish smile, and Malfoy smiled back, tiredly.   
  
He looked up, finally, and nodded curtly, and said, "Thank you, for letting me see him."   
  
  
They nodded back instantly, Hermione with a sly, "No issues at all, Malfoy."   
  
  
Malfoy sighed in a long suffering way as Scorpius giggled.   
  
  
Malfoy sat up and before Harry realised what he was going to do, he had flicked his wand at his son, and Scorpius's eyes shut instantly, a calm expression on his face, clearly asleep, and Ron said, "What did you do  _that_ for?!"   
  
" _Shh_ , Weasley," Malfoy said in a low voice, an annoyed expression on his face. "He's tired, just functioning on adrenaline and he needs his rest, and sleeping charms work better on him than draughts or calming potions."   
  
Hermione put her hand on Ron's wrist before he could argue further. She nodded, and then said, "Did you ask him what happened?"   
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you?"   
  
Harry shook his head, "They're just eleven. Protocol asks for atleast twenty four hours, before interrogation, for minors along with their guardians even for a case like this."   
  
Malfoy nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands agitatedly, "I was afraid something like this would happen. Really,  _really_ afraid. Remember when we entered and he asked me about the stars?"   
  
  
He paused, as if searching their faces for a sign that they believe him. "It was because he's been kidnapped before. Its a kind of code, to make sure its me " he said, and Hermione inhaled sharply, Ron frowning.   
  
  
"What  _happened_ ?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.   
  
  
Malfoy stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether to explain or not and then said,   
  
  
"When Scorpius was seven, we went to Diagon Alley, and I was certain it wouldn't be too bad in the broad daylight. Scorpius was too young to fully understand it, and the man at Florean's refused to serve a - a Death Eater. I couldn't tell him the real reason of course, and he threw a whole tantrum for an ice cream, and ran off. He somehow ran to Knockturn and Anthony Nixon - he used to be a Snatcher, he saw him and took him."   
  
  
Hermione gasped, "Oh, I - I heard about this, but it wasn't -"   
  
  
Malfoy nodded, "I didn't want Scorpius's name involved. He's got enough pressure on him with his - with his last name already," he said, a little bitterly. "Ministry stopped focusing on the case in a week, because this was and  _I quote_ , 'Death Eater business that couldn't be given priority until new evidence came up,"' he made a growling noise in his throat, and Hermione developed the appalled human-rights-lecture look,   
  
  
"So, I dug up my father's old contacts, records of purchases and black deals with every name worth knowing in the market for Knockturn, and some guy in a club near Borgins finally tipped me off. I had on disillusionment charms and everything when I reached, and thank  _Merlin_ for that or I would have lost him. Nixon, somehow had  _polyjuiced_ into me, and Scorpius, obviously, believed it was me who was treating him the way Nixon did."   
  
  
"Oh god," Harry said, his voice not coming out as more than a whisper.   
  
  
"For - for so long after that, Scorpius would look at me like - like I was going to  _hurt_ him. Can you imagine what  _that's_ even like?"   
  
  
He paused, looking at their ashen, horrified faces.   
  
  
"Nixon's in prison now, he apparently had some kind of score to settle with my father, with whatever fucked up idea for revenge he had, but Scorpius was with him for - for almost a fortnight - and I just - " he broke off, taking a deep breath, "I was afraid something would happen to him in Hogwarts too. And guess  _what_ ?"   
  
  
He looked up at them with a slightly deranged smile, "He didn't even have to reach the goddamn school."   
  
  
Hermione's hand was twitching as if she was debating whether she should try to comfort Malfoy or not, and finally, deciding against it, she said, "He's not a suspect, Malfoy. We talked to some kids on the train, they have alibis. Besides, he wasn't alone when he came across the girl -"   
  
  
"- but he will, alone, be persecuted for it," Malfoy finished, his voice cold. He lowered his voice, and glanced at the other bed, before saying, "That's Rose  _Zeller_ , a few years junior to us. And she's a  _Hufflepuff_ , so her kid isn't going to be under suspicion at all. But Scorpius -" he shook his head, as if to clear it.   
  
  
Harry wondered how Malfoy knew a Hufflepuff, realizing why she looked familiar, and he really wanted to argue, but Malfoy was right. Sons of Hufflepuffs and sons of ex-death eaters just didn't stand in the same bracket of mistrust.   
  
  
"We'll take the case," Harry said, fiercely and suddenly, without even realizing it. "I'll rope Kingsley into it, and Ron and Hermione can help me. We'll find out who it really was. Scorpius is not going to be under suspicion."   
  
  
There was a moment as they all just gaped at him, Malfoy too, with furrowed brows.   
  
  
"...you don't suspect Scorpius?" he said, in an strangely broken sort of voice.   
  
"No," Harry said, firmly, as Ron and Hermione both gazed at him, Hermione with an amused glint in her eyes.   
  
"What's the catch?" Malfoy asked, finally. Then he scoffed and said, "Nevermind, I know you enough to know there isn't a catch. But why? Why would you do that?"   
  
  
Harry felt like he should be offended at Malfoy's assumption that he knew him, but instead he just said, "You can chalk it upto my need to be the saviour of the day."   
  
  
Ron's lips quirked, as Malfoy just looked at him, unimpressed.   
  
  
Harry looked at Malfoy once - not his fault that his gaze landed straight on Malfoy's lips - and grudgingly admitted to himself, in his head that the saviour thing was utter  _bullshit_ .   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was half past seven, when Professor Mcgonagall's patronus came.   
  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Scorpius and Malfoy had settled at around five in St. Mungo's Cafe, where Scorpius detailed them on what happened. Malfoy had agreed to asking him the questions they wanted, informally as well, even without a barrister, because he felt that he would probably get a fairer treatment like this.   
  
The Ministry was really  _fucked_ up, Harry thought as Hermione asked Scorpius, gently, "Would you mind if we ask you a few questions, Scorpius?"   
  
  
He shook his head, his face blank, but Harry could see him tightening his hold on his father, who held his hand in his.   
  
  
"Who was the boy who you were with, when you came across the compartment?"   
  
"His name's Martin. Martin Zeller," he said, grimacing slightly. "I wasn't going anywhere with him. I was trying to find the loo, and I came across him and he was crying - and I thought we could get him some water, from somewhere."   
  
  
"How did you find him?"   
  
  
"I - er - I came out of my compartment, and I asked a prefect, I think her name was Woods, about where the loo was. And she directed me there, so I went. In the compartment two next to mine, Martin was sitting, and he was alone," Scorpius shrugged lightly, "And Father says  _nobody_ should feel alone when they cry, so, I took him along."   
  
  
_Was this the same Malfoy or had Scorpius been raised by someone else?_   
  
  
Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who was smiling, gaze was fixed on Scorpius's, as he said, quietly "That was nice of you, Scorpius."   
  
Scorpius nodded solemnly, and again, Harry wondered what it was with Malfoys and their absolute respect and love for their fathers, and the way their sentences began with ' _My_ _father says'_ too many times.   
  
  
"He said that his mother was a Hufflepuff," Scorpius continued, with renewed confidence. "And that everybody says that Hufflepuffs are too soft. So I said that that's not what it said in Hogwarts A History, and that its okay to be in Hufflepuff."   
  
  
Ron was openly ogling at Scorpius now, and Harry could hardly believe that this was Malfoy's son, a person who had once said that if he was in Hufflepuff, he would leave.   
  
  
"But you know what?" Scorpius asked, looking at his dad. "That's not what he was worried about. He said that he thinks he's a  _squib_ , and that he won't be sorted  _anywhere_ at all!"   
  
  
Hermione grimaced, and Malfoy bit his lip, clearly to stop himself from laughing, while Ron snorted, and then tried covering it up with a cough.   
  
  
Harry turned to the indignant Scorpius, who seemed to find this a real problem and said, "That's fair, you know. Even I wondered about that quite a lot, when I first came."   
  
  
Malfoy turned to him with an open mouth and a  _what-the-fuck_ expression.   
  
  
"Its a long story," Harry said, waving his hand a little as Scorpius started talking again, about how he had read his name in what books, and that he had to have known that he was a wizard if he was so powerful.   
  
  
"Rest assured," Malfoy said, "The boy will obviously be a Hufflepuff, or a Gryffindor, because I distinctly remember a Gryffindor in our year, who was just like that."   
  
  
"Who?" Scorpius asked interestedly, to which Harry shook his head, as the images flooded his mind.   
  
  
_(Has anybody seen my toad?)_   
  
  
Stifling a smile, Hermione faced Scorpius again, "And how did you come across Compartment 4?"   
  
  
Scorpius sobered immediately. "Its on the way to the loo. And when we crossed, Martin said that he could smell something foul. And it was really strong outside the compartment. So, we opened it and it was - it was so -" he swallowed, setting his face determinedly, "- Martin screamed, and I held him so he wouldn't go inside. We were so loud, but nobody in the compartments across from came. The Trolley Lady had already crossed, but she heard us and she came back down. And then, she sent us back to our compartment, and called the driver."   
  
  
Hermione nodded, looking at Harry in a clear manner - everything seemed normal, but obviously, something wasn't.   
  
  
"So, I took Martin down with me and we told Al and Rose about what -"   
  
  
"Al and Rose?" Harry asked, smiling bemusedly.   
  
  
"Yeah, Albus and Rose," Scorpius said. "They're really nice, you know, we sat together and they're both first years and Albus gave me sandwiches and I gave him bread rolls and then, we talked -"   
  
  
"Albus and Rose?" Malfoy echoed blankly, looking at Harry.   
  
  
"Uh- yeah," Harry said. " _Our_ children," he gestured at them, while Hermione looked sheepish.   
  
Malfoy nodded slightly, his face still blank.   
"You made friends with a Potter and a Weasley?" his tone still even.   
  
  
"Granger-Weasley," Hermione coughed.   
  
  
Scorpius nodded enthusiastically with, "I didn't know they were, at first, but then Albus's brother came and he introduced himself and then Rose did too, and we played Exploding Snap - and then we met the Head Boy, and he had  _blue hair_ at first, but then they became  _yellow_ \- "   
  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile, the genuine excitement, and damn he wanted to be a first year again.   
  
  
" - and the Head Girl, I didn't get her name, but she was  _so pretty_ , and Albus said that they snog each other all the time - "   
  
  
Harry suppressed the growing emptiness in his chest, Hogwarts really was magical.   
  
  
" - and then the train stopped, and the Trolley Lady called us back, and Martin wouldn't stop crying, it was all really sad, and Albus said it'll be fine because he could see his dad outside, the other Aurors were there too - and then Mr Potter and Mr Shacklebolt said we had to go to the hospital, and then, to the Ministry."   
  
  
Malfoy pulled Scorpius in closer to him, kissing him on his hair, and for a second, Harry found that extremely sweet - before brushing aside the thought of Malfoy as  _cute_ with horror.   
  
  
There was a sweeping sound, as the cat patronus flew in, a recognizable silver tabby cat, with markings around the eyes, and said in a stern voice, to Harry,   
  
  
" _Kingsley informed me that your team is taking the case. There's something you need to know. Come to the Express, Harry."_   
  
  
And the cat dissolved.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Nobody missing._   
  
There was  _nobody_ missing.   
  
Harry stared with open-mouthed shock and confusion, as Hermione triple checked all the records. There was no sign of who the girl was. No sign, at all. Everyone who had to come this year, in whatever year, was accounted for and aside from Martin and Scorpius, there was nobody missing.   
  
"That's  _not_ possible," Ron argued with Mcgonagall for the billionth time. "The train has wards for anybody not going to Hogwarts. Its just not possible."   
  
"There are of course, still ways to find out who she was," Hermione said, with a decisive nod. "We'll get her Autopsy, her trunk must have  _some_ sort of clue as to who she is. Her wand, too. We could ask the makers, Ollivanders remembers all, so if she bought it there, that could work."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  



	2. three blind mice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write another chapter, just for a peek into the story.
> 
> If you all like I might continue further - so, please do review!!
> 
> Enjoy <3

_________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Malfoy's Patronus came later in the night.   
  
  
Harry could say he hadn't expected it, but that would be a partial lie - because, he had  _absolutely_ and completely hoped for it.   
  
  
He wasn't sure why, really - but seeing Malfoy somehow - it just seemed to wake him up. Harry didn't feel that old adrenaline burst even while criminal chases during his work, but he definitely felt it with Malfoy. That urge to  _do something._ He didn't know what exactly.   
  
  
It was strange.   
  
  
Hermione easily chalked it upto - as she called it, in clear capital letters -  _Unresolved Teenage Sexual Tension_ , which it totally wasn't. Harry and Malfoy didn't have sexual tension between them. They had something like  _Historic_ Tension. It included  _I-don't-trust-him-with-anything-but-my-life_ , which Hermione said again - UTST.   
  
  
What did  _she_ know though?   
  
  
" _Potter_ , " the silver peacock began, amicably enough. "I just left Mungo's. Scorpius felt fine so he's gone with all the other students. The Zellers' are still here, though. I don't know if your team has started on the case, but - er - thank you once again for taking it. And also, if you require any assistance that I can provide,  _don't hesitate to ask."_   
  
  
There was a pause, and then a stiff,   
  
  
" _Good night, Potter."_   
  
  
Well.   
  
  
Assistance that Draco Malfoy could provide? He could name a few -   
  
  
Wait.  _What_ was it that Malfoy did?   
  
  
After a distressingly awkward moment where Harry flooed in through Hermione and Ron's kitchen - and screamed in horror, because they were doing  _unspeakable_ things, right on the  _goddamn_ counter - he told them about the Patronus.    
  
  
For the record, Harry was  _never_ cooking in their house, again.   
  
  
"He's a Curse Breaker," Hermione said, in a matter of factly voice, while Ron nodded, but skeptically. "He's actually  _so_ good at his job, that the  _Unspeakables_ hire him under confidentiality contracts. I always thought he would end up doing that, you know, after all the, you know," she winced, before, "Sixth year, cabinet thing."   
  
  
Harry just stared at her, shaking his head, and asked, "How do you even know this?" while Ron muttered something about how Malfoy must be the  _only one_ in the last ten generations of his family to ever actually do honest work.   
  
  
"I have my ways," she replied, in an airy sing-song voice, getting off the sofa and pulling out a yellow bag of Cheetos from the counter, which Ron had officially declared as the ' _Best Muggle Invention Ever,'_ and ' _muggles really have wild flavours,_ and ' _there's this one that I love - in the purple bag,_ _Harry, look!'"_   
  
  
"So, how did Kingsley even let us take the case, Harry?" Ron asked, licking flaming hot powder from his fingers. "And that too, just three people? Usually they assign atleast five in charge. Along with the whole team."   
  
  
"Emotional blackmail," Harry deadpanned, flatly - as Hermione smacked him on the head with her palm.   
  
  
" _Your saviour is asking for Tithes, Shacklebolt,_ " he continued, in a grave, ghost whisper. "It is time to  _repay_ ."   
  
  
Ron and Hermione laughed, blowing puffs on Harry.   
  
  
They talked for quite some time, about the case and their leads - even though the medical reports hadn't come yet - and Malfoy, which Harry kept coming back to, much to Ron's irritation.   
  
  
"Just because his  _kid's_ cute, Harry, doesn't mean we want to hear you pine over the snake git!"   
  
  
"I'm not  _pining!_ Besides, Malfoy's married."   
  
  
"Don't you read the Prophet, Harry?"   
  
  
"What does  _that_ mean? Is he  _not married_ , then?"   
  
  
"Oh, for  _fuck's_ sake."   
  
  
"... _so, he isn't?"_   
  
  
  
Hermione sent Harry back to his house with a huge stack of notes that she had already prepared - all color coded, and alphabetically arranged, on previous cases like these - there weren't many,  _thank god_ \- places they had to visit for any leads - gory photographs which Harry did not want to spend too much time on and Draco Malfoy's floo address.   
  
  
He had the floo number memorized before he slept.   
  
  
Accidentally,  _of course._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry met Hermione and Ron sharp at seven, at the cafeteria in St. Mungo's. Hermione looked worried. Ron looked hungry.   
  
  
The usual, then.   
  
  
"Healer Smith floo called me just now," Harry began, ordering three cups of coffee for them. "He said he has the Post Mortem report ready."   
  
"Yeah," Ron said, looking a little queasy. "He called us too."   
  
Mungo's Forensic Lab was way on the other side of the building. They walked there in a comfortable sort of silence that comes when you've known each other for more than a decade.   
  
Healer Jacob Smith was a tall, balding man - with glasses that slid off his nose loosely. He fidgeted with the cuff of his robes as they entered, adjusting the opaque plastic covering on the girl's body.   
  
  
The fact that they still didn't know the girl's name spoke  _volumes_ about parenting in the British Wizarding World.   
  
  
"Mr. Potter," Smith greeted, his expression solemn and tired - which did nothing to stop the sinking feeling in Harry's stomach. "Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Granger-Weasley."   
  
  
Hermione gave him the smile she reserved for those who said  _both_ Granger and Weasley while addressing her.   
  
  
"I trust that nobody has come to claim the body, yet?" Smith said, sighing heavily and leaning on the wide table next to the bed. "Of course, I would be informed if the child's guardians had come forward - never mind, never mind."   
  
  
He trailed off looking at the body.   
  
  
_Child's_ body.  _God,_ it was  _horrifying._   
  
  
He took off his spectacles before starting to speak.   
  
  
"As you know, the girl was eleven years old," he started. "She was quite a light weight, short, slightly malnourished as well so, it wouldn't be a stretch if somebody had attacked her to the point that her body was so  _mutilated_ ."   
  
  
"But, her autopsy shows that she wasn't touched by anybody else. At all. It was a cursed object that she touched and for quite a long time, too - until it finally reached a  _particular_ trigger and acted.  _Very_ dangerously so."   
  
  
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and he knew what they were both thinking about.   
  
  
_( - her hair had been whipped by the fierce wind, and her eyes were closed - six feet above the ground, she had let out a terrible scream - an opal necklace that had killed nineteen muggles but had failed to kill Dumbledore - )_   
  
  
"She had handprints, though," Harry began, hesitantly. "She had  _handprints_ on her neck like somebody had twisted it around and choked her, till she - "   
  
  
He broke off, realising a frightening possibility, as Hermione inhaled sharply - Ron's expression disgusted as he realised the same thing.   
  
  
" _Ah,_ yes," Smith said, with a bitter twist of his mouth. "She did that to herself _._ I am not familiar with such a curse - but it seems that when it took hold, the girl was forced to strangle herself. Brutally. The handprints are the  _girl's own."_   
  
  
There was a shocked, horrified silence.   
  
  
"What  _motive_ could they have?" Hermione said, in a breathless sort of whisper. "To kill an eleven year old girl like that, its just -  _its monstrous."_   
  
  
"It isn't likely that this was an accident," Smith continued, voice grim. "Objects that are cursed with such dark magic aren't even found in stores infamous for the Dark Arts, like Borgin's or Lucas's. They are made by dark wizards, specifically designed on order. There is a minute possibility that the victim was accidental, but someone -  _someone_ was  _meant_ to be murdered this way."   
  
  
"What else did you find?" Ron asked, his voice brittle. "According to the autopsy, I mean?"   
  
  
"Her limbs weren't aligned right, so that's either a side effect of the curse," he began, darkly. "Or its possible that the curse entailed an  _extreme misuse_ of a horizontal stretcher-bender."   
  
  
Hermione looked sickened, as Harry turned to her with a questioning glance.   
  
  
"Its a kind of charm that lets you change body shape," she explained, in a clinical way.   
  
  
"Its not like  _enlargement_ or  _shrinking_ or polyjuice. Its more - painful, and  _permanent_ . Parents and husbands used to use it, mainly to increase the heights of their children and spouses, so that they could find better marriage matches or be better looking, in a medievally conventional way, I suppose. It was banned in the 1800's when somebody started using it to execute criminals, by just - stretching them. Till - till it was  _too much."_   
  
  
Too much.   
  
  
Till they were stretched  _too much._   
  
  
Smith nodded soberly before continuing.   
  
  
"Her hands were blackened and almost  _shrivelled_ . Which means, whatever she touched, she did it with both her hands - where it was the most concentrated. Fairly normal for dark curses. Her clothes were ripped, again, that's quite usual for malevolent curses - they try getting  _closure_ , by separating the victim's body from anything else. There's a wound on her head, so if I had to guess I would say she was repeatedly thrown up and down. Might have hit the ceiling a few times."   
  
  
Harry swallowed nervously.   
  
  
What was this curse? And moreover, what would the girl have thought, she was alone, she must have been terrified, and in so much excruciating pain -  _Merlin_ .   
  
  
"Her vocal chords were half torn," he continued, and Harry thanked god he hadn't eaten before this. He would have thrown up, by now.   
  
  
"Which would have stopped her from calling for any sort of help. It would have taken her a minute to die, tops. What with the spinal chord damage, and the bones in her legs and arms. It is - its actually the worst curse I have  _ever_ seen, and I've been working in this department for almost  _forty_ years. That too, on a mere  _child_ \- "   
  
  
He broke off, scrubbing his face frustratedly and sat down, eyes downcast.   
  
  
"That's all, really," he said, picking up two files and handing them over to Harry. "Her Post-Martem reports. I would generally ask the guardians if the Auror Department could use them, but well. Feel free to inquire if you have any questions about the reports, anything that might help in this investigation.  _Grisly_ business, this all is - "   
  
  
"Thank you, Healer Smith," Harry found himself saying, numbly. "We'll get back to you if needed."   
  
  
"Of course," he said, nodding. "Auror teams have the usual Curse Breakers and Researchers, don't they? I daresay you'll be needing one who's  _thumping_ good at his job of you want to find out the source of the curse."   
  
  
Harry and Hermione exchanged a loaded glance, as Ron sighed his ' _ferrety-git-again?'_ sigh.   
  
  
They started to leave, and Harry was almost out of the door when he heard a faint, " _Oh_ , Mr. Potter?"   
  
  
He put his head through the door again, raising his eyebrows quizzically.   
  
  
"I didn't mention this earlier," he said, hesitantly. "Because it didn't make much sense. Still doesn't, in fact. The girl - her body was covered in these  _golden flecks,_ like dust, or glitter."   
  
  
Harry nodded quickly, remembering the sample he had taken too, and mentally smacking himself for forgetting about it.   
  
  
"So, I put Lewis and Charles on it," he continued, looking pained. "They're the best at that sort of research. And they worked on it for hours, for some sort of clue regarding the object used - or a  _trace_ of the curse."   
  
  
Harry waited with bated breath. Somehow, in his gut, he knew this was pivotal.   
  
  
"The  _truth_ about the dust, Mr. Potter," Smith said, sighing and smiling sadly at him. "Is that the dust was - "   
  
  
He stopped talking abruptly, his eyes widening and Harry stared at him in confusion for a moment before saying,   
  
  
"Healer Smi - "   
  
  
There was a horrible gurgling sound as Smith opened his mouth, and  _bubbles_ poured out - his wrinkled face contorting in pain - and screamed, shrill and loud - voice filled with pure anguish.   
  
  
Harry had never felt as helpless as he did now, as Hermione and Ron came running back in with befuddled, panicked expressions, and helped him carry Smith down to his own Ward, where Healer Zhang frantically shoved a bezoar down his throat before making him lie down and waving her wand over him, in a visible golden net of spells.   
  
  
"Lewis and Charles," Harry said, as soon as he could, his mind racing while he hastily retold Hermione and Ron what Smith had told him before his sudden fit.   
  
  
"If by chance, Smith was targeted because of his involvement with this, we need to warn them too - "   
  
  
They exchanged one solemn look, before running down to the lobby, sending a patronus and taking a note of their wards and office number.   
  
  
Healers Noah Lewis and Liam Charles shared an office on the fourth floor, the lady at the counter had said, sounding scared - she must have heard about Smith being poisoned. Or whatever had happened to him.   
  
  
Ron ran ahead, as Hermione and Harry followed, his heart beating wildly - please,  _please let them be alright -_   
  
  
Ron opened the door without knocking, its hinges creaking and hitting the edge with a loud bang.   
  
  
Harry heard Ron curse mutinously as he entered, his heart sinking.   
  
  
The two men were on the floor near their respective desks - their eyes wide and blank - faces an odd shade of  _blue and purple,_ mouths open, dribbling the same kind of bubbles that had escaped Smith's - and legs oddly tangled, like they had fallen off their chairs.   
  
  
Harry didn't realise he had stumbled forward, until he was touching the men's throats.   
  
  
_No pulse._   
  
  
Harry took a deep, shaky breath as he stood up - clutching his wand with one hand and steadying himself with another, trying not to think about their lifeless bodies.   
  
  
This was on him.   
  
  
  
  
  
___________


	3. lucy locket, lost her pocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick update, I'm enjoying writing this story quite a lot. Thank your for reading!!!

__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_I put Lewis and Charles on it,_ he had said.  _They were the best with this kind of thing -_ the bubbles, so, so many bubbles, everywhere - like the dishwashing soap Aunt Petunia used to give him - they were  _choking_ , choking - the  _tangle of legs - pale, unmoving -_   
  
  
" - rry!"   
  
  
He blinked, trying to remember where he was.    
  
Right. The Investigation.    
  
The girl's - they still didn't know her name - possessions, meaning - her Trunk.   
  
  
He shook his head, as if to clear it and ignoring the looks of pity and concern on Hermione and Ron's faces, focusing instead on Malfoy.   
  
  
Malfoy's face was carefully neutral, like he didn't know what he should look like - and was steadily avoiding the fact that he was working with them - his lips pursed as he looked at the old, plain black trunk, free of any tag or initials, flicking his wand to and fro - the cracks in it lighting up, time and again.   
  
  
Ron had sent Malfoy a call and apparated Harry straight to their apartment from Mungo's - he hadn't felt this way, this  _drowning_ guilt in a long, long time - because both of them - two Healing researchers with families, wives and maybe even children - just gone.   
  
  
_Gone_ .   
  
  
Because Harry hadn't hurried up - hadn't thought far ahead, hadn't imagined a possibility of this happening. No matter how many times Hermione told him that the Healers had said that the men had died almost half an hour before they were brought in, and that even if Harry had gone straight from Smith's office to theirs, they wouldn't have had a chance - it didn't matter.   
  
  
They would never know for  _sure_ , because Harry hadn't  _done_ that.   
  
  
He had frozen. After  _seventeen_ years of continuous war and  _seven_ years of Auror work, he had seen a man getting poisoned and he had  _fucking frozen._   
  
  
It was so  _pathetic_ that it was almost funny.   
  
  
"Okay," Malfoy declared with a grimly satisfied smile, clapping his hands together and breaking Harry's thoughts. "All clear. The trunk isn't cursed on the outside - and the lock's easily breakable."   
  
  
He looked at Harry questioningly, until Harry realised he was asking him a silent question and nodded hastily.   
  
  
" _Alohomora_ ," he said, clearly - pressing his wand to the lock gently.   
  
  
The old lock swung open, and slid sideways - as the lid opened in a noiseless orbiting motion.   
  
  
Harry should have been relieved at the sight of the over flowing trunk, because obviously - more belongings, more clues but the truth was, the whole business just became even more  _heartbreaking_ .   
  
  
He grit his teeth, and stepped aside as Malfoy began checking each item for curses and jinxes or traces of any dark magic, his wand moving in curly flourishes and twirls - passing them on to Hermione, Harry and Ron.   
  
  
They had broken a bit of protocol, by getting the trunk straight inside the Auror Department, without proper authorization to stay overnight and also, by not yet informing their team of any of the developments.   
  
  
One of these things was the clue to finding out what happened to the little girl.   
  
  
Harry redoubled his speed.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
" _Ravenclaw!"_   
  
  
Scorpius Malfoy smiled, albeit a little sadly - before handing over the Sorting Hat to Professor Longbottom and making his way down the aisle to the table clad in blue and bronze. Albus waved from the Gryffindor table, as he sat down - mouthing an exaggerated, " _Congratulations_ !"   
  
  
He wondered if his father would be disappointed about him not being in Slytherin.   
  
  
The  _only_ Malfoy in generations.   
  
  
As the Ravenclaw prefects - Emily Wood and Leo Goldstein, shook hands with him, smiling, he realised - that his father might be disappointed, but he would be much more relieved, too.   
  
  
Wasn't Ravenclaw  _much_ better than Slytherin, if you wanted to prove your innocence?   
  
  
And his father was so  _extraordinarily_ over protective, this could be a good thing.   
  
  
Rose made her way down to Gryffindor too, grinning at him - and giving him an awkward thumbs-up - and Scorpius decided, yes - it was much better.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
____________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Knock, knock, knock._   
  
  
Minerva Mcgonagall had had a trying couple of days.   
  
  
Naturally, she blamed the Potters.   
  
  
It was almost habitual by now.   
  
  
The day Fleamont Potter had first come to Hogwarts - he had picked atleast a dozen fights, all on account of, " _He made fun of my name, Minnie, its not my fault!"_ \- and she, being a prefect, had been forced to take so many points that Gryffindor had been doomed before term even started.   
  
That was definitely before he flew his illegal broomstick up the girls dormitory.   
  
  
The day James Potter had first entered Hogwarts, he had indirectly assisted in the sorting of a  _Black_ Heir to  _Gryffindor_ , colored Lucius Malfoy's hair  _pink_ , slipped veritaserum in Mr. Lestrange's pumpkin juice - making him explain in  _excruciatingly_ graphic detail about how he had lost his virginity - not to Bellatrix Black, but to Narcissa Black instead and converted the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room into a frog filled swamp, with a highly irritating excuse that went something like, " _I only wanted to transfigure a Lily-flower for Evans, Professor!"_   
  
  
The day Harry Potter had entered the Great Hall barely mattered -  _Look what the kid did in seven years,_ she thought dryly.   
  
  
When James Sirius Potter came to Hogwarts, Minerva was ready. Or atleast she thought so, until, the boy somehow discovered the  _Prefects' Bathroom,_ creatively charmed all the bubbles to spill outside onto anyone crossing the area and changed the password of the bathroom and all portraits, everywhere in the castle - to, " _The Marauders are back!"_   
  
  
Minerva had almost had a heart attack.   
  
  
And now.   
  
  
Albus Severus Potter had come - and seeing what had happened that day, she would brand him as more his  _Father's_ style of trouble rather than his brother or grandfather.   
  
  
_(She didn't know which one was worse yet.)_   
  
  
Which again, would explain, why she could hear the uncertain knocking on her door and the tiny but distinct voice of Albus Severus Potter calling her name, at twelve at night.   
  
  
_Knock, knock, knock._   
  
  
Oh,  _honestly_ , she thought - as the boy refused to take the hint that he could come in the morning, too. It was just six hours away. He should be going to his Head of House, really. She shouldn't even be awake.  _He_ should  _definitely_ not be awake.   
  
  
_Knock, knock, knock._   
  
  
She needed a Firewhiskey.  _And to retire._   
  
  
She opened the door and let him in, he shuffled hesitantly first, looking worryingly pale, before taking a seat, with a scared but determined expression.   
  
  
She waited impatiently for about a minute, hoping he would stop fiddling with his night suit of his own accord and just tell her what he wanted to.   
  
  
" _Yes_ , Mr. Potter?" she prompted, narrowing her eyes at him inquisitively. "Anything I can do for you?"   
  
  
"Yes, Professor," he said, slowly.   
  
  
She waited another minute and  _another grey hair._   
  
  
"Speak up, Mr. Potter, please," she said, briskly. "I'm afraid I don't have the whole night for you."   
  
  
He took a deep breath before blurting out, "I would have come sooner, honestly - but I just, well. I - I met the girl, before - before the - before it happened. I was going to  _sit_ in her compartment, I asked her, too. But she was sort of -  _well_ . But maybe, I can tell you, she said some  _really wierd_ things and I think you should have a look at - "   
  
  
He cut off his long rant to take a breath, about to open his mouth again, until Minerva stared him down and cut him off, waving her wand.   
  
  
" _Harry,"_ she said, to the silver cat. "Mr. Albus Potter may have some information helpful for your case. Come tomorrow, sometime, preferably with the  _least_ number of people you can. I wouldn't want to cause  _even more_ panic. Thank you."   
  
  
Albus looked at her with wide, surprised eyes.   
  
  
"Well?" she said, sternly staring at him - but the corners of her mouth flicking up at his expression. "Get to bed.  _Now."_   
  
  
Albus fled, so fast infact, that she delightedly wondered if she was that scary - with a, " _Good night, professor, thanks!"_ behind him.   
  
  
She sighed, looking at her desk and the copy of the Daily Prophet kept on it, wondering just what was to come.   
  
  
Something seemed very  _off_ , about this whole  _horrific_ murder.   
  
  
  
_Three Healers poisoned at Mungo's - Two Dead_   
  
_Are the Golden Trio losing their Touch?_   
  
  
  
She scoffed angrily before crumpling the paper with unnecessary aggression and throwing it right into the fireplace.   
  
  
_( - "And Mcgonagall scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!" an eleven year old Ludo Bagman yelled in her head, like always - )_   
  
  
  
Merlin, she needed sleep.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The first thing that caught Harry's eye was the  _silver-bronze mouth organ._   
  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and looked at him in a patiently exasperated manner when he told her that, yes, he had seen this before somewhere - he was sure of it.   
  
  
"Harry, its a  _Lucamelody_ Blues Special harmonica," she said, sighing loudly - as Ron and Draco stared at her with furrowed brows and the ' _is-this-some-muggle-thing?'_ expression of theirs. "Everyone's seen this. Even I used to have an old one of my grandfather's."   
  
  
Harry didn't bother saying that he definitely hadn't seen his grandfather's harmonica or that the Dursleys weren't the type of people to keep this, he should know. Hermione had had this annoying idea that Harry was so panicked about the deaths of the two healers, that he was fishing for clues where clues weren't present.   
  
  
Harry conceded and reluctantly put it in the  _Sad Pile._   
  
  
So dubbed by him, silently - because the things in the  _Sad Pile_ weren't leads and they weren't anyone's anymore, either.   
  
  
The only thing that was worse : they didn't  _have_ a  _Happy Pile_ yet. Or a  _Less Sad Pile_ , atleast.   
  
  
Harry glanced at the Sad Pile once more, looking at the girl's untagged, unmarked robes and clothes - all quite old and second handed. He didn't know why he found it so suspicious, its not like he had had his initials written down on all his clothes - but still. There was absolutely no name.  _Anywhere_ .   
  
  
Malfoy tutted mildly, as his wand detected no curse - again - and passed Harry a silver thimble. He had seen this particular thimble before, too. He was sure of it. It was somehow linked to the mouth organ.   
  
  
Somewhere,  _possibly_ -   
  
  
No. He couldn't remember. He also did not want to tell Hermione this, because thimbles were so common, she would take it in the wrong way. Wrong way being -  _"I think you're tired, Harry, you should just go home."_   
  
  
But he had seen it somewhere, he thought, tracing the little flower vine engraving around its rim.  _Was it -_   
  
  
He accepted the bag of toiletries that Malfoy passed him - lotion, brushes, paste, the likes - and kept it on the growing pile.   
  
  
They had been at this almost two hours. Harry had - well, he had expected atleast the girl's name by now. Some  _diary_ , maybe? A  _quill pouch with her initials?_   
  
  
"Potter, Granger," Malfoy said, abruptly, holding something bright red in his hands. "What's this? Is this some sort of muggle weapon?"   
  
  
Hermione grabbed it from his hands, frowning curiously - and grinned widely, unravelling the red yo-yo towards Harry with a loud ' _zip_ ' sound, that made Malfoy jump, looking alarmed.   
  
  
"Its just a kid's toy," Hermione explained, hitting a panicked Ron with it.   
  
  
"Its called a  _yo-yo._ You play with it like  _this_ ," she hit Malfoy on the head, as Harry laughed and Malfoy glared at her, ducking out of reach.   
  
  
"I used to love these things," Harry said, taking it from Hermione and testing it out, remembering Dudley's old one, blue with a Simpsons print.   
  
  
"Same here," Hermione said, standing upright with a haughty expression. "I was so good at yo-yo games. You are looking at the  _undefeated_ _St. Johns Primary Under-Elevens conker_ and  _hacky sack champion nineteen eighty two to nineteen ninety one."_   
  
  
Ron blinked at her, slowly and Malfoy recoiled slightly, looking faintly horrified - his left eye twitching - as Harry took it from her and kept it in the  _Sad Pile,_ shoulders shaking in laughter.   
  
  
The clock in the lobby suddenly struck eleven, and they hurried with the next item - a tattered copy of  _A History Of Magic_ \- Malfoy muttering under his breath.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was almost an hour later that Malfoy passed the last of the things, sighing heavily - because they had found virtually nothing. Nothing at all.   
  
  
Not even a name.   
  
  
Harry leaned dejectedly on the counter, as Hermione and Malfoy went over the trunk again - but, obviously, they wouldn't be able to find anything, if there was nothing in the trunk, then there wouldn't be anything hidden inside its  _lining walls_ or whatever they expected -   
  
  
" _Harry_ !" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly and Harry almost ran to the trunk, was it some clue? Any lead?   
  
  
"Look at this," she said, holding out two small greenish things.   
  
  
Harry looked down, taking them both in his hands -  _Badges._   
  
  
A Slytherin Prefect Badge and a Head Boy's Badge. Quite old, by the looks of them - the silver snake curling around the letter ' _P_ ' on the green Prefect's badge.   
  
  
Which meant - that whatever they had been assuming about the girl's muggle raised heritage - was probably wrong. Malfoy was looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Harry could almost see the cogs in Hermione's mind turning.   
  
  
"She must have been a half-blood," Harry said, quietly - unable to come to any other conclusion. "Or a Muggleborn in a squib branch of some family so she knew somebody, like an uncle - or, or someone who - "   
  
  
" - went to Hogwarts and was a Slytherin Prefect and the Head Boy," Ron concluded, his face screwed up as he thought. "It really isn't possible to find something from there, is it? Like some sort of record - "   
  
  
"Without even an initial or a year?" Hermione said, shaking her head. "That would be - slow and ineffective. And probably,  _impossible_ ."   
  
  
"Don't worry about the initials," Malfoy said, slowly, his wand trained on the bottom of the trunk, as Hermione's eyes widened - did they finally know her name?   
  
  
Harry looked instantly, his gaze searching - as Malfoy whispered a, " _Lumos_ ," and pointed to the leftmost edge. Where, it said, in a scratched script - carved right into the floor of the trunk -   
  
  
  
_A.B._   
  
  
  
Before Harry could speak another word, or think about what that could mean, the silver cat came elegantly sweeping in once more, the same way it had that day in the cafe and spoke in the vaguely irritated voice of one Minerva Mcgonagall.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________


	4. go round the mulberry bush

__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
"It  _has_ to mean Black," Hermione argued, for the billionth time, even though Harry and Ron had never even objected once. "The Slytherin badges, for one. And, well - its almost like the locket, isn't it?  _R.A.B?_ Maybe - maybe she was his daughter or something like - "   
  
  
"Then  _why_ wouldn't her name be on the Hogwarts students' list, Granger?" Malfoy said, walking ahead of them as they neared the apparition point at the Ministry. "And also, every  _single Black_ should be accounted for. You can't miss somebody from a family like that. Haven't you checked, Potter?"   
  
  
Harry nodded. He had. It was the first thing he'd done after going back to Grimmauld Place.    
  
But the tapestry offered no help at all.    
  
Regulus Black didn't have a daughter, that was certain - and there was nobody of that age in the family, except maybe Teddy, if taken that way.   
  
  
There was nobody left alive at all, but that wasn't the point.   
  
  
_A.B._   
  
  
Who could that be? Hermione and Harry had done a whole study the night before, using the  _Genealogy Book_ \- in case the girl was a half blood or even pureblood, though that was unlikely - with Malfoy and Ron's help - until Malfoy had fallen asleep on their couch, in the middle of reciting all the wizarding last names starting with 'B' that he knew.   
  
  
Which happened to be quite a few.   
  
  
"Black - Bell -  _Bagman_ \- Belby - _Bagshot - Binns - Brown,_ " he had started, almost in a sing-song way, as Harry openly gaped at him.   
  
  
"Woah, Malfoy," Hermione had said, with begrudging respect. "Slow down. How do you even know so many?"   
  
  
"I could even do it alphabetically or in the  _Sacred Twenty Eight_ order," Malfoy had muttered, looking crosseyed and sleepy. "My Father was - "   
  
  
There was an awkward pause as he broke off, shutting his eyes. And then,   
  
"Bones - Boot -  _Brand_ \- Borgin -  _Bletchley_ \- Blishen -"   
  
  
It hadn't taken long to check for a girl on the family trees - an eleven year old, specifically. The girls who were near that age, Malfoy easily shot down with, " _She's not her,"_ and, " _No, I know that girl."_   
  
  
Privately, Harry was impressed with how incredibly useful Malfoy was. He was polite, quick with his job and really,  _really_ efficient - Harry had almost asked him a security question to make sure it was the same Malfoy they had known in school - most of all, he was so normal.    
  
And funny.    
  
He had been the most help till now, with Harry and Ron mostly just doing the paperwork for the DMLE.   
  
  
Malfoy - well, he had certainly grown up. Quite a bit.   
  
  
Harry had wanted to visit Healer Smith today - they had assigned two Aurors for his security at Mungo's - but then, Mcgonagall's patronus had come.   
  
  
And along with it, a slight guilt that he still hadn't checked up on Albus and James. Lily was still at Andromeda's - who gave her regular, _"She's okay, but she crashed her broom into a tree,"_ updates even though she didn't have to. Lily had always been extra fond of Teddy, and she stayed there almost as much as at their own house.   
  
  
The Head of the Auror Department, Robards - had been taking daily reports on the case - and Harry knew that the only reason he hadn't said anything about their slow progress was because he was  _Harry Potter_ . Anybody else would have been assigned more Senior Aurors and supervised to an extreme scale - seeing as it was such a  _gruesome_ and young murder case.   
  
  
Kingsley was really patient, though, so there was that.   
  
  
Harry watched as Malfoy spun on his heel - his grey eyes gleaming in the sun, and disappeared, right before Ron and Hermione. He felt the familiar tug in his gut as he apparated - and appeared, right outside the Three Broomsticks, the quiet chaos at Hogsmeade engulfing them.   
  
  
"Ready, mate?" Ron said with a lopsided smile and looked up at the castle -  _it had been years since they had come back._   
  
  
Harry nodded, grinning - before falling into pace with his steps, an eye on Malfoy's back.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"See you later, then, Al," Scorpius said, pulling a face behind Mcgonagall's back, and starting to walk down the corridor from her office - she hadn't let him stay for this.   
  
  
"Yeah, Scorp," he replied, sitting down and resisting the urge to bounce his leg up and down. It was going to be  _fine_ . His dad was coming so,  _obviously_ , it would be okay.   
  
  
He remembered the conversation he had had with the girl vividly.   
  
  
Probably because it was the  _wierdest_ conversation of his life, and that was saying something because he had grown up with James Sirius Potter.   
  
  
He wondered for a second what would have happened if he had sat down with her, instead of getting cold feet over her sinister demeanor. But no, Scorpius had described the girl's appearance after she'd been found. It was obvious that whoever had done that to her - would have killed Albus, too. Him being there wouldn't have made a difference if the murderer was so  _inhuman_ .   
  
  
Professor Mcgonagall - that lady gave him the  _heebie-jeebies_ \- coughed tightly as she arranged the papers on her desk, and levitated the Pensieve out. Albus had told her that he thought they should see a memory of the event instead of just him telling them about it - and she had agreed, opening up the tall side cabinet and showing him the stone basin.   
  
  
The gargoyle door opened quite suddenly and Albus stood up, smiling at Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. Next came a tall, blonde man he hadn't seen before - but he looked like a carbon copy of Scorpius, so that must be his dad. Most probably.   
  
  
His dad grinned at him as he entered, and Albus's shot nerves settled down a little as he hugged him, ruffling his hair.   
  
  
"Gryffindor,  _huh?"_   
  
  
" _Was there ever any doubt?"_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
___________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay, so, Albus, hold your wand like that -  _yeah_ and just think of that particular memory and just -  _yes, now pull_ ," Harry said, guiding the silver strand of memories into the basin, and wondering just what his son knew about the girl - hopefully, something useful.   
  
  
Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco entered the pensieve at the same time, plunging into a background filled with shimmering colors, neither liquid nor gas -  _red and white and blue and the yellow_ sunlight streaming through the windows, he was falling,  _falling_ \- and quite suddenly, standing and blinking to adjust his eyes in the middle of compartments in the Hogwarts Express.   
  
  
Harry immediately caught sight of Albus, standing at the door and waving goodbye to him, Ginny, Ron and Hermione - and then turning around, biting back an excited smile and looking for a compartment.   
  
  
Albus headed straight for the fourth one - he had probably registered that in his head when Ron had mentioned that that was where they all met for the first time, and lugged his trunk behind him.   
  
  
Albus opened the compartment, after peaking through the window a little - from where Harry could see the girl sitting. He slid open the door and said, "Do you mind if I sit here?"   
  
  
The girl, who had been looking out of the window turned, and it hit Harry in a painfully nauseating way,  _how real she had been_ .    
  
She was thin and quite pale, with dark curly hair that cascaded around her shoulders. Her pale, blue eyes reminded Harry of Dumbledore's, sharp and crystal-like, clear of any emotion as she looked at Al, her cheekbones high and aristocratic, her robes clean but old.   
  
  
She didn't say anything for quite a long time, just inclined her head and studied Albus in a way that's bound to make anyone uncomfortable, let alone an eleven year old boy who just left home for the first time.   
  
  
" _You_ are a Potter," she said, finally, her accent odd and unfamiliar.   
  
  
Albus nodded with an uneasy smile, and Harry could already see him regretting his decision with varied amounts of confusion and apprehension.   
  
  
"Yes, Albus Potter. And you are?" he prompted with raised eyebrows, after a moment.   
  
  
She smiled quite suddenly, and Harry felt a slight shiver up his spine, the smile was uncanny.  _Wolfish_ .   
  
  
"Its a mystery, isn't it?"she said, her voice sweet and fluid, adjusting the collar of her black robes. " _That's_ the question. The  _puzzle_ you have to solve."   
  
  
"Er - a puzzle?" Albus said, curious, despite the girl's apparent state of  _not-quite-sane._ "You want me to guess your name?"   
  
  
"If you want to," she sang back, airily.   
  
  
" _Fucking hell_ , she was like  _Loony_ ," Malfoy whispered loudly from his left and Harry bit back a very inappropriate laugh.    
  
  
It was true, though, she was giving the distinct Luna Lovegood vibes.   
  
  
"Okay..." Albus said skeptically, still not sitting - and Harry wondered just what he was planning to do with his compartment situation. "Give me a clue, atleast."   
  
  
"Its a  _puzzle_ !" the girl exclaimed, laughing delightedly like she had just made a really funny joke. "I don't have to give you any clue."   
  
  
Albus was looking a little creeped out now, as his eyes flew wildly from her to the window - as if reconsidering walking out of there. Harry could see him struggle with it, it would obviously be rude to just go somewhere else.   
  
  
The girl turned to look out of the window again, smiling dreamily -  _to herself?_ \- and humming loudly - what seemed to be a poem or some odd song that Harry had never heard.   
  
  
Hermione passed them all a sharp glance, before focusing on the girl.   
  
  
  
_"The yew tree lives, under the moonlight,_   
_he once wrote a letter, his love so bright - "_   
  
  
  
She stopped abruptly, and looked at Albus like she had just realised he was still standing there. Obviously, not for long, what with the way he was shuffling in the doorway. She cleared her throat, before saying,   
  
  
_"There once was an old woman, who lived under the hill,_   
_And if she isn't gone, she lives there still._   
_Baked apples she sold, and cranberry pies,_   
_she's the old woman who never told lies."_   
  
  
" _Right_ ," Albus said, stretching out the vowel, and beginning to walk back out of the compartment. "Is there any particular reason you're quoting  _Muggle_ rhymes at me?"   
  
  
"Its a muggle rhyme?" she said, her face a mask of confusion. "I always thought of it as a  _real Wizarding tale."_   
  
  
"I - uh - it might be," Albus said faintly, looking vaguely traumatized.   
  
  
She nodded sagely.   
  
  
"I'll just - er - I'll see you after the sorting?" he said, quickly, his voice squeaky in the end - like a question.   
  
  
Her smile turned sad.   
  
  
"Maybe you will," she said quietly, sounding like he really,  _really_ won't.   
  
  
Albus nodded weakly before walking out, as Harry felt himself lifting up and out of the pensieve - with a million more questions, and no definite answer to any.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Was that  _actually_ a Muggle rhyme, Granger?" Malfoy asked, as they walked down to the grounds. They had all been very quiet after seeing the memory, all lost in their own thoughts.   
  
  
"I -  _yes_ ," Hermione, said confusedly before gaining momentum. "Of course. Its a Muggle  _nursery_ rhyme.  _You_ probably wouldn't have heard - "   
  
  
"I haven't heard the poem itself," Malfoy said, slowly - lines on his forehead as he thought. "But, the girl was right. It  _is_ a Wizarding legend. The old woman who never told lies. Get it? She was a  _Seer_ . Everything she said, came true."   
  
  
Harry felt his eyebrows rising as Hermione made a perfect 'o' shape with her mouth, brows pinching together, as she nodded in understanding. "That makes sense," she said, biting her lip in concentration.   
  
  
"What about the  _yew tree_ and the love letter thing?" Ron asked, sitting down on the archway stone slab - the way they used to, as students. "And the way she said maybe they would meet after the sorting? Reckon she knew something was wrong?"   
  
  
"It was certainly very - suspicious," Harry said, finally. "I mean - it is possible that all of that was just her normal, you know, her usual personality. But  _something_ was off. Something about the way she wouldn't say her name - how nothing in her trunk is labelled. How her name isn't in the students' list. What's so  _damning_ about her name?"   
  
  
"You think we should find out if anyone else met her on the train, too?" Malfoy asked, his jaw clenched as he looked at a tree in the distance. "All of her vague talk about old seers and trees - she might have said something of the sort to somebody else too."   
  
  
" _Father!"_   
  
  
All four of them turned in unison to see Scorpius Malfoy running towards them, with a huge, beaming smile - and another boy walking a little behind him at a slower pace, with a small, polite smile.   
  
  
"Al told me you came too!" he said, excitedly as Malfoy smiled back, and patted his head while Scorpius hugged him around the waist. "Why didn't you meet me?"   
  
  
"I was going to, Scorp," he said, quietly chuckling. "We're working right now."   
  
  
"Oh," he said, and without faltering, began speaking - all about Transfiguration and Charms and Muggle Studies, which Harry personally found extremely entertaining - watching Malfoy nod complacently as his son badgered on about  _Muggle transportation and medical services._   
  
  
"Hello, Uncle Draco," the other boy said, lazily standing in front of them.   
  
  
He was quite tall - with dark hair and deep, bottle blue eyes and a sharp jawline - his robes expensive and fitting to the inch.   
  
  
"And how's my  _favourite_ godson doing?" Malfoy asked, ruffling the boy's hair with a fond smile. "How's your mother?"   
  
  
"My  _Father_ is doing quite as well as I am, thank you for asking," the boy quipped, smiling cheekily as Malfoy cuffed him lightly on the ear.   
  
  
"Raphael Zabini," he introduced, extending a hand to Harry.   
  
  
_Zabini_ . Ah. Well, that made sense.   
  
  
"Harry Potter," he said unnecessarily as the boy smirked, with an obviously-I-know-that expression that made him look a lot like his father, and shook his hand - looking at Scorpius while Ron and Hermione introduced themselves.   
  
  
Harry had a distinct suspicion about who his mother was, too, what with the tilt of his smirk and his nose but it would be quite rude to just ask - and also, very awkward - considering the history they had -   
  
  
"Well," Malfoy said, laughing at something Scorpius said. "How's Pansy?"   
  
  
Pansy  _Parkinson_ .   
  
  
Right. That made things easier. Or difficult, depending on how you took it.   
  
  
"Great," Raphael said, hitching up his satchel on one shoulder. "She said she's bored. So she's hosting this week. Are you going?"   
  
  
"For  _free_ drinks?" Malfoy said, jokingly. "Why not, darling?"   
  
  
Harry missed the quick glance that Malfoy gave him at that.   
  
  
"We should go now, Malfoy," Ron said, standing up, looking at Hermione, who nodded.   
  
  
"Lots to do," Harry explained amusedly to Scorpius who now had an honest to goodness pout on his face.   
  
  
" _Mystery_ to crack," Malfoy said, laughing a little at the admittedly poor joke - as he stood up, brushing invisible dust from Scorpius's robes. "Puzzles to solve."   
  
  
"Oh, can I help too?" Scorpius exclaimed, excited again. "I  _love_ riddles!"   
  
  
And it hit Harry like a freight train, as he exchanged a horrified look with Hermione and Ron - who must have looked the same - wide eyes and lips parted in shocked realisation.   
  
  
_Riddle_ .   
  
  
_( - its a puzzle! I don't have to give you any clue - )_   
  
  
The old prefect badges - Slytherin prefect and Head Boy.   
  
  
Riddle.   
  
  
Harry sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.   
  
  
No way.  _No fucking way._ But it was true, he knew it in his gut, it was definitely true - and why hadn't he realised it before? It was so obvious - almost  _glaring_ at him in the face - but then again, it was also impossible, wasn't it?   
  
  
"Thank you, Scorpius," Hermione said, with a grimly clenched jaw - to an increasingly alarmed Scorpius. "We'll just be going now, yes?"   
  
  
Draco passed them a bewildered, annoyed look, but - with a quick goodbye kiss to Scorpius - followed instantly.   
  
  
A puzzle.  _A riddle._   
  
  
  
_Riddle._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Potter, Granger and Weasley looked - for the lack of better words, completely broken.   
  
  
Broken and betrayed.   
  
  
What had Scorpius even said, that he loved riddles? Were they all crazy - or was this some sort of  _Golden Trio Mystery Clue_ that he had somehow not gotten the memo for?   
  
  
Draco had tried his best to be civil, as polite as possible - he loved his job, so, it wasn't that hard most of the time - but still. He really deserved an Order of Merlin for making successful quidditch small talk with Harry  _I'm-socially-retarded-and-fucking-awkward_ Potter, and now - this.   
  
  
Potter, with his bright, stupid green eyes - and his stupid  _I-got-shagged-in-the-wind_ hair - and his stupid friends, just running out on him like Draco hadn't been carrying the weight of this whole case all along, and hadn't  _once_ mentioned anything about his pay.   
  
  
He didn't want any, obviously - he had too much money even after paying all War Reparations, and the Ministry seizing two of their vaults.   
  
  
Say what you will about Lucius Malfoy, but when it came to money and its profitable investment and managing - you really  _couldn't_ beat him. He had failsafes and foolproofs - all an intricate game that he played well, so much real and forged paperwork, it was almost impossible to cheat him out of it.   
  
  
If Scorpius  _really_ wanted, he could live his whole life without a job and he would still be well off.    
  
  
That was enough money, Draco felt.   
  
  
Truth was, Draco's clients tended to be very few - and high paying - but most of the time, he was free.    
  
_Free_ to repair the mansion and renovate spaces in it according to his mother's wishes. Free to play quidditch with Scorpius. Free to visit his father in Azkaban. Free to hang out with Pansy and Goyle and Blaise and Theo and Daphne - pretending that nothing had changed.   
  
  
Working with the golden trio was kind of - different. It wasn't exactly as bad as he'd imagined - they weren't irritatingly self righteous, most of the time - and quick, almost as sharp witted as the Slytherins.   
  
  
Which he liked.   
  
  
But there were these moments - sometimes, when they seemed to get together - in a very childish ' _L_ _et's exclude Malfoy'_ way.   
  
  
Like right now.   
  
  
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, as soon as they reached the Auror Office. "Why did you all just run off like that?"   
  
  
Potter stood up, nodding shakily - expression apologetic - as he shut the door behind Weasley and Granger and set up silencing charms.   
  
  
"We think," Granger began carefully, as Draco's anger evaporated a little. They did mean to give him an explanation, atleast.   
  
  
"We think, we  _know_ who the girl is," she said, to Draco's absolute confusion.   
  
  
How did they know that? All of a sudden?   
  
  
"Or, atleast - we know who she's related to. She may be - she maybe Voldemort's distant relation. Or - or his granddaughter. Or something like that."   
  
  
Draco felt his jaw dropping as he looked at Weasley and Potter for any sign of a  _really bad practical joke_ . They looked quite sincere, though.   
  
  
Which was distressing.   
  
  
"Really?" he began, in a highly disbelieving voice. "How did you come to that  _brilliant_ conclusion?"   
  
  
"The girl kept saying her name is a puzzle, didn't she? What if she meant her name is  _Riddle_ ?" Granger said, in the patient explaining voice that she used on Potter and Weasley - like what she said made any sense at all.   
  
  
"And how does a riddle relate to the Dark Lord?" he asked, shaking his head in confusion.   
  
  
" _Oh_ ," Potter said, in that innocently irritating way of his. "You don't know, do you?"   
  
  
Draco sneered at him.  _Obviously_ , he didn't know. What didn't he know?   
  
  
He took out his wand and with fiery letters, wrote down - in that despicable handwriting that Potter had -   
  
  
_TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_   
  
  
Maybe they were crazy. What did this Riddle name have to do with -  _oh_ .   
  
  
Oh.  _No way._   
  
  
Draco already knew with a sickening feeling what was going to happen - as Potter flicked his wand, and the letters rearranged themself into more familiar ones.   
  
  
_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_   
  
  
There really was nothing else to it.   
  
  
Draco couldn't help but remember - laughing till the other three looked at him oddly.   
  
  
( _"Anagrams are so cool, aren't they, Draco?" eleven year old Pansy asked, with a rough parchment and quill in hand. "We should all make anagram code names. All of us original Slytherins."_   
  
_"Huh?" Draco said, scrunching his nose as he looked at her crossed out code names. "What will yours be, then?"_   
  
_"Oh, I haven't come up with a good one yet," she said, beginning to scratch out words again._   
  
_He peaked onto the paper, finding a constant stream of unfortunate words like Snaky and Annoy and Pink._   
  
_And Kinky. And Spank._   
  
_He had laughed then, too._   
  
_Pansy had never lived it down.)_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_____________


	5. here comes the candle to light you to bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a proper chapter, really - its mostly filler, I just wanted Draco to catch up a little, and I couldn't find a way to skip it that wasn't abrupt.
> 
> Enjoy!! I'll update the next part soon :)

__________  
  
  
  
  
  
"So - what you mean to tell me is that - that the Dark - that  _Voldemort_ ," Malfoy said, slowly, with emphasis on his real name. " _He was not even a pureblood?!"_   
  
  
"How did you come to - "  
  
  
"Oh,  _don't_ test my intelligence, Potter," Malfoy said huffing, obviously annoyed that he hadn't known this already. "Riddle isn't a Wizarding name.  _I_ would know."  
  
  
"His blood is  _hardly_ the thing that matters considering - " Hermione started, bristling immediately.  
  
  
" _No_ , that's not what I meant," he said, hastily, his eyes still wide open in a stunned sort of expression, raising his hands a little in a placating manner. "I just always thought - its just really. Well. Its really - "  
  
  
" _Hypocritical_ ?" Harry interrupted, shrugging. "Yes. He had severe daddy issues, you could say. His father was a  _muggle_ \- "  
  
  
Draco made a choked sort of sound.  
  
  
" - and his mother was almost a  _squib_ ," Harry finished, grinning at Malfoy's expression - who looked like he had just been betrayed by the whole world.  
  
  
Ron patted Malfoy on the back awkwardly, who completely ignored it.  
  
  
"I -  _why_ didn't you ever tell anyone?" Malfoy asked, sounding bewildered. "If Dumbledore really knew, why didn't  _he_ tell anyone? He could have gained so much support from - "  
  
  
Harry clenched his jaw, as Malfoy asked the same questions Harry had always asked. Why did Dumbledore hoard so much information? Playing your cards close  _was_ important, sure - but Dumbledore treated it like _his cards were more important than people's lives._   
  
  
" -and I remember Aunt Be - " Malfoy glanced at Hermione once, before continuing, "I remember Bellatrix saying that he had  _Slytherin's_ blood. And that that's how he could speak  _Parseltongue_ ."  
  
  
"He did," Harry said, nodding. "He was the last Heir of Slytherin. Its actually - his mother was born a Gaunt, so - "  
  
  
"A  _Gaunt?_ " Draco exclaimed, gaping at them all like they were pulling his leg. "A  _Gaunt_ , like one of the oldest Sacred Twenty Eight families - those Gaunts? That Gaunt was a squib? And she  _married a muggle?"_   
  
  
"Its a long story," Harry said, grimacing.  
  
  
Malfoy raised a perfect eyebrow.  
  
  
Hermione rolled her shoulder blades before settling down next to Ron on the sofa, staring at Harry with a mild expression - like it was  _story time._   
  
  
He sighed.  
  
  
"Okay," he said, sitting down cross legged and leaning on the wall near the couch.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
" _First_ , Malfoy, don't ask how I know all this," Potter said - which grated severely on Draco's nerves, considering that was the last question on his mind right now - and folded his arms, his eyes a little glazed like he was remembering something. "And  _don't_ interrupt, its a frustratingly stupid story anyways."  
  
  
Draco didn't doubt that. After all, it was Potter telling it.  
  
  
"I suppose it starts in the early 1920's - " he began, as Draco blinked.  
  
  
_(1920's?! Was the Dark Lord that old?)_   
  
  
" - in a village called  _Little Hangleton,_ " Potter seemed to have succumbed to the easy delusion that this was just a tale in a book, and not real life, as he explained - gesturing with his hands a little.  
  
  
"You know about the Gaunts already. So, I'm guessing you know that they weren't very well off at that particular time too," Potter continued, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Draco, who nodded distractedly, trying to remember everything he knew about the Gaunts.  
  
  
"They lived in complete  _squalor_ , poverty - uneducated, the whole lot of them - who were even alive. Which includes  _Marvolo Gaunt_ , and his two children - Morfin and Merope. They were all  _completely_ insane," he shuddered a little. "Dumbledore showed me some memories that he had collected - they could barely speak english, and conversed in parseltongue, instead."  
  
  
Draco could only nod, wrinkling his nose a little.  
  
  
"The Squire of Little Hangleton, quite a rich muggle - now, that was  _Tom Riddle Sr,_ " he said, as Draco realised where this was going. "He lived with his parents nearby, in a manor in the village. And Merope Gaunt used to watch him, passing by on his horse - and he was handsome and rich - so, quite obviously, she  _fell in love_ with him. Her father would have never let her - even somebody, who was clearly abused by him because of her uncontrolled magic - to marry a  _filthy muggle,_ so she stole the last heirloom of the Gaunts,  _Slytherin's locket, actually -_ and ran away with him."  
  
  
"Slytherin's Locket?" Draco blurted out, staring at them - as Granger huffed softly. "The actual locket? Also. Why did Tom Riddle run away with Merope? How did they even meet and fall in love and everything - "  
  
  
"The actual locket, yeah," Potter said, with a bitter kind of laugh, as Weasley shifted uncomfortably - there was definitely a story there. Or multiple. "And he didn't. She  _drugged_ him. With _love potions."_   
  
  
Draco felt his jaw falling open in shock - love potions? - what even - but that would mean -  
  
  
"Yeah," Potter said, like he had read Draco's mind. "Tom Riddle was  _conceived_ on love potions. He was literally  _incapable_ of feeling love."  
  
  
Potter could tell a story quite dramatically,  _damn_ .  
  
  
"Anyway. Merope assumed - hoped - that when she stopped feeding Riddle love potions, he would stay, if only for their baby. But he didn't. He ran back home the moment he realised, taking all the  _witch stuff_ badly," Harry wiggled his fingers to demonstrate  _witchly-ness_ , apparently.  
  
  
"Tom Riddle was born on  _31 December, 1926_ ," he said, with a grim smile. "In an Orphanage in London called Wool's. His mother died during childbirth, the last thing she did was name him - after a father who hated his existence, and a grandfather who didn't even fully know about it."  
  
  
Weasley and Granger's lips were pulled into identical frowns, as they looked at Potter.  
  
  
"And so, Tom Riddle grew up there.  _Parentless, bullied -_ and whatever chance he could have had of learning to love, well. That was completely ruined. He turned into a bully himself, of course - using his magic to hurt others - "  
  
  
A Voldemort bullied by five year old orphans. Draco could scarcely imagine what that looked like.  
  
  
Also, was Potter actually feeling  _sorry_ for Voldemort? Because it certainly sounded like that.  
  
  
"He could talk to snakes, too, like he wasn't already so different to begin with. I remember seeing Dumbledore's memory when he first went to give eleven year old Riddle his Hogwarts letter at the Orphanage - "  
  
  
Potter trailed off, his mouth falling open in unmistakable horror, eyes wide open like he was in shock. There was a long pause, before Granger leaned forward, looking at Harry in thinly veiled concern.  
  
  
"Potter?"  
  
  
"Mate, are you alright?"  
  
  
"Harry, what - "  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dumbledore's memory when he first went to give eleven year old Riddle his Hogwarts letter.  
  
  
_Eleven year old Riddle._   
  
  
That first memory that Harry had seen. The words echoed in his ears, as his lips parted and he was right,  _right, right -_   
  
  
Harry was sure he wasn't imagining the squeezing feeling in his stomach as he stumbled, getting up on his feet - barely able to hear Ron and Hermione's worried protests -  
  
  
He ran to the other room, where the trunk was still laid, two piles of belongings on its side, under simple stasis charms. Just in case. He rummaged through the first pile, before pulling out three items, placing them on the table before him with shaking hands.  
  
  
  
_( - I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe, Tom - )_   
  
  
  
A Lucamelody Blues Special Harmonica, with its tarnished silver covering.  
  
  
  
_( - Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have? - take it out, Tom)_   
  
  
  
A silver thimble.  
  
  
  
_( - You will return them to their owners with your apologies, Tom - thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts - )_   
  
  
  
And a red yo-yo.   
  
  
  
_( - flames, flames, flames - as all that the little boy had - burnt, right in front of his dark, dark eyes - with a glint in them that promised retribution - )_   
  
  
  
He swallowed fearfully. What did this mean? The badges, the belongings, it wasn't possible at all - he couldn't be back, but somehow this little girl had his possessions in her trunk - and -  
  
  
Who else  _but Harry_ could know this?  
  
  
Dumbledore had never confided in anyone, especially information this sensitive.  
  
  
Who would target the girl? Moreover, was she targeted for this or was it related to something else -  
  
  
  
  
  
___________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hermione ran after Harry instantly, that look in his eyes too reminiscent of when they got devastating news during the war, Ron right on her heels and Malfoy following.  
  
  
"Harry,  _Harry_ , what - " she yelled as she came into the room where he was standing, his whole body tense and trembling. "Why did you just - ?"  
  
  
Her eyes focused on the yo-yo and the mouth organ, as she turned to Harry incredulously.  
  
  
"Mate, why have you taken  _these_ out again?" Ron asked, his voice lined with trepidation. "Did you figure something - "  
  
  
"The girl was definitely related to Voldemort," Harry said, biting his lip in thought, his voice carefully even. "These three things? I told you, I've seen them before. They're  _Voldemort's_ . Tom Riddle used to  _steal_ . From the other orphans. Like how people  _collect trophies._ I've seen these three. In the memory I was just telling you about - "  
  
  
He broke off, his face set in firm lines - jaw defiant - as they all exchanged grim, confused looks.  
  
  
" _They're Tom Riddle's things."_   
  
  
Hermione stepped forward, picking up the thimble and turning the little thing between her fingers. "How would the girl  _have_ these?"  
  
  
Malfoy was shaking his head slowly.  
  
  
"The real question is,  _who really_ is  _she_ that she has these _?"_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They agreed to splitting up, as Harry quickly assigned them jobs, sending a patronus to the junior members of their team who were probably doing the neccessary paperwork regarding their previous discoveries.  
  
  
Truth was, for a case that had such little leads - so many people weren't required.  
  
  
One team, being Harry and Draco - who would go to Wool's Orphanage, if only Harry could confirm its exact location - because he had an unsettling feeling that they would be back there.  
  
  
Hermione disapproved their going to the place because after all these years, it seemed quite useless, but conceded reluctantly when Harry told her that he felt almost a tugging to it, that was probably nothing more than morbid curiosity.  
  
  
Ron and Hermione would go to Hogwarts, to seek Dumbledore's advise, even his portrait was quite sharp - atleast Professor Mcgonagall had told them so.   
  
Or maybe even Snape's portrait's help.   
  
Just until an hour or so, till Draco and Harry would be back and they could interrogate the students together, if any of them had met the girl before or knew anything about her.  
  
  
In short, they didn't really know anything new. They just had even more confusing  _not-exactly_ -clues.  
  
  
Professor Mcgonagall had already announced it in the Great Hall - and no student had come forward with any kind of information about the train girl - but, Harry could no longer sit and write this down, he was feeling a compulsive need to get up and do something.  
  
  
Draco and Harry apparated together, Draco's hand placed firmly on Harry's arm - as Ron passed him a last reassuring smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco was disappointed and slightly  _disgusted_ .  
  
  
Surely,  _surely_ \- this wasn't the place.   
  
Were all orphanages this drab and filthy looking? He wondered how children grew up in places like these - especially magical children. Magical children deserved  _better_ than this, than all the oppressive yellowish white walls, and shabby hedges - something needs to be done about this, shouldn't the Ministry do something for them?  
  
  
He and Potter had apparated to an isolated alley just near the place - although how Potter even knew where to go, Draco didn't know, through Dumbledore, probably - and walked to the orphanage, as Draco looked around at the prim, old buildings, trying to memorize the area.  
  
  
They were just at the door, looking at the small, wooden sign outside - when Potter stopped abruptly, clutching his forehead.  
  
Draco's first thought was : Potter is the most  _disaster prone_ person in the world, because he's  _self destructive (Exhibit A) -_ and could there be one peaceful moment when he was around?  
  
  
His second thought : Is it his scar that's hurting? Also,  _do_ scars hurt like that?  
  
  
Only the  _Chosen One's,_ maybe.  
  
  
He doubled over, his face contorted in pain as Draco asked frantic questions, wondering whether this was serious enough to bother Granger over, and hovered near him, waving his wand helplessly - forgetting that it was a muggle area.  
  
  
He stopped struggling suddenly, letting go of his scar and stumbling back a few steps, his face white, ashen and horrified as he stared at Draco.  
  
  
" _Scar_ ," he panted, breathlessly. "My scar hasn't hurt like this since  _He_ died."  
  
  
Draco didn't have to ask who - his heart was already sinking, as he swallowed, throat bobbing nervously.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
__________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review if you liked it! And do read my other works as well <3


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